


Deck the Halls

by maybejustcreation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybejustcreation/pseuds/maybejustcreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel take holiday decorating a little too seriously this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deck the Halls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for the Dean/Cas Secret Santa exchange! Thanks to my betas for the excellent jobs as usual--and happy holidays to my recipient! <3

It's not that Dean isn't a festive person. He is. Really, ask anyone, he's about the average amount of festive per every holiday event. There are always eggs for Easter and chocolate and romance on Valentine’s. Fireworks on Fourth of July. A haunted house on Halloween--their house won last year for the Scariest on the Block contest their street does. A turkey as big as Castiel’s head for Thanksgiving. They even do that weird--does it work? Who knows?--egg balancing thing for the spring equinox. Check the books, Dean and Cas are pretty evenly matched for holiday spirit.

That is, until Christmas rolls around. Then Dean doesn’t know what happens. Something gives Castiel an edge. Snow in the air? The earliest whiff of peppermint and vanilla? A list full of Christmas ideas mailed to their home in secret, only accessible by Cas and somehow successfully kept from Dean every year? (Money’s on Sam.) 

The point is, somehow, every year, Castiel gets a head start on the Christmas festivities. And yeah, sure, it starts out small. A little pine tree air freshener for the car with a star on top. Candy cane stirrers for their tea. Regular slippers swapped out for ones that look like elf shoes. But then every year--every year--it ends with someone, sometimes a lot of someones, commenting on it. Oh, is he just not as into Christmas as Castiel is? Where’s Dean’s Christmas spirit? It looks like Cas wears the Santa pants in this relationship, huh? (That one doesn’t even make sense!) And it’s not so much that it pisses Dean off. It’s just, well, not true. Like, at all. Dean is so not the Scrooge of this relationship, damn it.

So Dean comes up with a plan.  


\-----

“Hey, Cas?” Dean says conversationally that night, toothbrush is his mouth. “We should do a bet.”

“For what?”

“Christmas.”

Castiel perks up. “I’m listening.”

“You know how every year people call me a Scrooge?”

“You’re kind of a Scrooge.”

“Am not. And to prove it, I’ve come up with a marvelous bet,” Dean announces with a flourish of the tube of toothpaste. 

“Still listening,” Castiel laughs.

“I propose, we have a contest to see who is the most festive of all this holiday season!”

“Why do you sound like you’re in a medival novel?” Cas wrinkles his nose.

“Shush,” Dean says. “Anyway. So. It’ll work like this. It’s the 20th, right? For the next five days, we go all out. We do every holiday thing we do. And then, at the end, whoever did the biggest, best Christmas things, wins.” 

“What’s the wager?” 

“To be determined.” Dean hasn’t decided what the wager is yet, mostly because he likes to keep his options open, and his options range from doing the dishes for a week to Cas doing that thing he knows Dean likes in bed for a week. This step ensures both fairness in equal opportunity for festivity levels from the bet onward and also ensures that no festive gesture can be written off as innocent. It’s all to get ahead, baby. 

“Okay,” Cas smiles like he isn’t sure if he should take this proposal seriously. But he should. It’s very serious. 

“It’s settled then,” Dean says, trying to sound very official. Mostly he sounds like that TV voice that happens when places have big blowout sales. “Let’s deck the halls.”

“Did you just do that on purpose?”

“What on purpose?”

“Deck the halls. That Christmas pun. You did that on purpose.”

“Uh,” Dean pauses. “Yes. Yes, I did. Point for me! See, I’m already winning this thing.”

“The bet starts tomorrow,” Castiel reminds him.

Dean grumbles.

****

**December 21**

“You’re kidding,” Dean calls down the stairs before taking them two at a time. He woke up to the smell of gingerbread and sugar, which means Cas has already got a headstart on him. Dean curses himself for his natural talent of sleeping in. 

“Why am I kidding?” Castiel smiles as Dean takes in the plate of Christmas cookies on the living room table, laughing as Dean’s eyes widen to also take in the two freshly placed stockings above the fireplace, a little team of reindeer hung from the ceiling like fairy lights, their previously bare tree in the corner of the room now complete with decorations. Cas chuckles again, with a sympathetic clap on Dean’s shoulder as he follows Dean into the kitchen where there are twin snowmen salt and pepper shakers atop a snowflake tablecloth, and of course, some pretty holiday jazz crooning from their stereo. 

Dean is speechless for a moment. Then he says, “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” 

“Christmas beckons me from slumber,” Cas says. Dean scowls and stomps into the living room for a consolation cookie. A present-shaped chocolate peppermint square melts lovingly in his mouth. Dean bites back a noise of appreciation. 

“These are so good,” Dean groans mournfully, turning to bury his face in Cas’ neck. “I hate you.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Castiel soothes with a kiss. “I know.”

**December 22**

****

****

“Hello, sir! May I assist you with something today?” 

This is the third time Dean’s walked into this Costco. The other two times, he walked right back out. But he’s had lunch now, third time’s the charm, and he’s determined. Also, he took off work for this, and he’s pretty sure Cas’ shift will be over soon so he only has so much time to get this done. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for--decorations? The Christmas kind?”

“Certainly,” the sales clerk smiles. Her name tag says Noelle. Jesus. It’s everywhere. “Are you looking for anything specific?”

“What’s the biggest non-tree thing you have?” Dean asks. Noelle looks a little frightened.

As it turns out, the biggest non-tree Christmas decoration Costco carries is an inflatable Santa Claus, complete with sleigh and reindeer. Dean decides he’ll hang out in the sleigh shortly before Castiel gets home before work, because he’s three parts smug and one part in financial ruin, thanks to this stupid lawn decoration. It’s snowing and Dean feels like he’s on top of the Christmas Titanic.

“Was this expensive?” Castiel asks, looking up at Dean.

“Are you very impressed?” Dean is pleased. 

“You spent money on this?”

“It comes with complete with reindeer!” Dean is less pleased. 

“One. That’s a single reindeer guiding your sleigh, and he doesn’t even have a nose so bright so guide with.” 

“It only has to guide to our house.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Come up here.”

“No,” Castiel says, but he’s laughing, his cheeks red from the cold, snow in his eyelashes. 

“C’mon, you’re just gonna go inside and leave me here? Please?” Dean sighs when Cas shakes his head. “I’m gonna say it then.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m saying it.”

“Dean, knock it off.”

“Here I go.” Dean takes a deep breath with his eyes shut, peeking out at Castiel after a moment. Cas is grinning helplessly. 

“But it’s not--”

“Scrooge.” Yikes. Fighting words.

“Move your butt.”

Dean does, and with much effort, Cas climbs onto the sleigh beside him. It’s just air, so he keeps sliding back down, annoyed at Dean’s magical climbing abilities. He makes it, though, coats pressed together, hands finding each other’s.

“Where are we headed?”

“Once more around the park?” Dean suggests, and Cas kisses him, hard, right there in their front lawn on top of their stupid, overly expensive sleigh complete with reindeer. 

**December 23**

Two little things that lead to big things happen on Sunday.

One, Castiel forgets his keys, and the doorbell plays the first four bars of Jingle Bells to announce his arrival. 

Two, after dinner, it rings again and Dean opens the door to a barbershop quartet that sings I’ll Be Home for Christmas, Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) and Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, which Dean is sure Castiel requested specifically.

Which, if you didn't know, is kind of like declaring hall-decking war. Dean supposes it's time for a truce before anything regrettable happens. 

But that doesn't mean it should be a trucey kind of truce.

****

**December 24**

On Monday, Castiel comes home to the house literally decked out in mistletoe. Hanging from the ceiling, on the doorknobs, up the stair railing, and when he checks, yes, in every room including the bathroom.

“Truce?” Dean smiles when he gets in.

“You think you’re so cute.”

“I think I’m adorable,” Dean says, and Castiel kisses him anyway. They make out all the way upstairs and into the bedroom. Castiel kicks off his shoes and kisses a trail from Cas’ mouth to his jaw, tongue at the stubble on the underside, careful edge of teeth. Castiel gasps, and Dean gives a small oh, hand moving to the back of Cas’ head, handful of hair.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel grits out, chasing Dean’s mouth, hand cupping the back of his neck when he finds it, keeping it there. And Dean stays, kissing back while his fingers travel, coaxing Castiel into sitting up, shirt to the floor, yanking off another layer between them. Then lets his eyes explore his body before his hands follow suit, mouth doing the same.

Cas bucks up when Dean reaches the spot just above his hip, warm suction and playful tongue, heel of Dean’s hand close and not close enough to the outline of the bulge in his pants. Dean stops, and then moves all the way back up; a kiss, veering off to bite at Cas’ neck. 

Castiel groans, grinding their hips together again and finally figures out the mechanics of jeans, unzipping and making his way into Dean’s pants. And then, Dean reaches over and pulls lube from the bedside drawer. 

“Is that peppermint lube?” Castiel asks with a breathy laugh. 

“It’s festive,” Dean says softly, with a wink.

Dean moves back over to Cas’ mouth and they kiss for what seems like a long time. Castiel’s hands touch all the skin they can find while keeping his mouth on Dean’s, hiding little noises between his teeth and Dean shushes him softly, Shh, shh, shhh. I know; sliding Cas’ pants off him before shimmying out of his own.

Uncaps the lube and pours some in his hand. Leans over Castiel and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Okay?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Cas breathes.

Dean slides a finger in slow, and slower when Cas asks him to. His other hand wraps around Cas’ dick, and that’s slow, too. Castiel concentrates on how much he loves that it’s Dean that he can taste in his mouth, and Dean watching him with green eyes, a million things etched in his face that Castiel wants to burn into his skin. 

After a pause, Dean says Cas, light as a feather, laced with something warm.

“Please,” Castiel says, when he’s ready. “Dean, please.”

They find a rhythm like they always do, and it’s gentle all the way, spilling out the way the smell of coffee does in the kitchen. Castiel comes with Dean wrapped around him, and Dean comes eyes squeezed shut, Castiel’s _I love you, Dean. I love you_ getting through the fog.

After, they lie curved against each other, Dean tracing shapes at Cas’ back. Outside, snow is falling. Somewhere down the street, carollers are carolling. 

“I have to say something,” Castiel says.

“Go for it.”

“Please get rid of the hideous sleigh. But the mistletoe thing was nice.”

“You got it.”

“Merry Christmas.” Castiel links their fingers together. “You win."

“You win, too,” Dean says, kissing him, and Cas doesn’t argue.


End file.
